


When My Love Reaches For Me

by snkirschtein



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:28:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25023940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snkirschtein/pseuds/snkirschtein
Summary: Everyone needs something to fight for.a collection of attack on titan oneshots. some posted on my tumblr @ snkirschtein
Relationships: Jean Kirstein/Reader, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/Reader, Mike Zacharias/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	1. Antephialtic | Levi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> antephialtic (n.)  
> A protector or guardian against one's nightmares

Night and night again, it would come to the same hour, where you would wake up to a twitching, kicking Levi. He would kick off any remaining covers, break into a sweat and sometimes, let out painful cries.  
  
And night and night again, you would then stay up and stroke his hair until he fell asleep again, arms wrapped around each other like vines.  
  
Sleep was a distant memory. Although, it wasn't necessarily unwelcome. Late nights awake with one another was the most time you got together in the past few months. Especially when he'd leave the next morning without a word, leading to you praying for his safety outside the walls, dealing with Humanity's worst enemy.  
  
The small moments you had together when you both were awake were both a blessing and curse, trapping you in a never ending loop of sleepless nights, and gentle love.  
  
It was beautiful in its own way. You both knew sleep was hard for a soldier, especially the night before an expedition. Night after night, day after day, Levi couldn't escape the hushed voices plaguing his head, turning his daydreams to nightmares within seconds, turning his thoughts into regrets and horrible ideas.  
  
You always knew when to be there. You knew, when he would stare off instead of doing paperwork. You knew he was thinking about his squad. You knew when he was alone, drinking tea and watching the wall. You knew he was thinking about what would happen if he had only done right with Isabel and Farlan.  
  
And when he's breaking his own walls down at night, you knows he's at his worst - you knows he's wondering what he would do with himself if he let titans grab hold of you.

  
The rain outside the window beside your bed had slowed to a quiet drizzle and the room started to fill with the smell of fresh fallen rain. It was one of the hotter nights, spring just arriving.  
  
And you were awake again. Sleep hadn't come easy since Levi had told you _another_ expedition was in place for the next early morning, though giving an excuse for why you were awake was pointless when this was a regular habit. Sighing and turning your head gently to look over your shoulder, you spotted the mess of sweat and thin blankets. He looked as if he were at ease, but his face would cringe every few seconds, his fingers grabbing at the sheets around him.  
  
Sitting up a bit, you leaned onto your right hand and had your left cupping Levi's face, moving small strands of hair from his sweat-caked face. His eyes squeezed tighter, his mouth scowling as he let out a quiet, almost animalistic growl. Leaning forward, hovering slightly over the male, he continued to squirm and groan. You put both hands on his face.  
  
Levi began to toss his arms about, his legs following shortly as he craned his neck to the side. He groaned almost inaudibly.  
  
"Levi," you whispered, whipping the sweat streaks from his forehead gently, before repeating a bit louder " _Levi_."  
  
Said man grit his teeth in his slumber, turning onto his side completely, facing the opposite way. You exhaled deeply, pressing your gentle palms to his bare back where his shoulder blades shifted. He had curled to a ball, his legs pushing against his chest and his muscular arms hanging off the side of the bed.  
  
Minutes pass quickly, and he showed no signs of fighting off his nightmares. You stroked his head, a familiar and almost futile way of trying to calm him down, shushing his sleeping form as he whimpered ever so quietly. Only in such a silence would you ever hear the pained cry.  
  
You knew, just like every other night, that he would only get worse, nearly reducing you to tears as well. It was a dreadful pattern.  
  
He may fight off the titans, but you fight off the real demons. The ones that never truly leave him, the ones that will still follow him even when the titans are long gone. And when he wakes up, eyebrows scrunched and breaths coming out in choppy gasps, turning to see your concerned face, he knows it. He thinks it as he turns to you fully, pulling your knuckles to his lips to lay a soft, thankful kiss to them.  
  



	2. Cingulomania | Mike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cingulomania (n.)  
> the strong desire to hold someone in one's arms

Mike had never been one with words.  
  
When you had come into the Survey Corps, you had gracefully danced into his heart, along with many others. You were able to sway the young cadets when just walking past. Your smile melted the cold hearts of ones who swore never to open up again. The wave of your hair made even the short corporal's heart do back flips behind his rib cage.  
  
Mike had never been one to fall for anyone's tricks - you were a first.  
  
He hadn't even realized how much you meant to him before he started staring at you from across the room in a meeting or thinking about you during paperwork.  
  
When you were around, he found himself drowning out Erwin's instructions for the upcoming expedition because of their intoxicating scent.  
  
It angered him; he couldn't see himself getting out of your trap, he couldn't escape the grasp.  
  
You had come to his office often; delivering paperwork from Erwin, or missed meals. Sometimes you just stopped in to check on him when he had hidden away too long, which only frustrated him. Were you _trying_ to reduce him to putty in your hands?  
  
  
"Mike," you said, closing the door behind you with your foot, while your hands overflowed with papers, all from Erwin most likely, "I've got the next expedition's plans, straight from the Commander."  
  
He hummed, silently inhaling your scent as you placed stacks onto his already cluttered desk. His eyes were cast downward, avoiding your curious gaze. You threw up your hands in a light salute, fists firm and a smile on your face.  
  
"You're dismissed," Mike said, wondering why you hadn't already left.

It was almost as if you actually knew what you did to him. And you probably did, he thought often; you probably just wanted to twist his heart.  
  
"I know."

You took a seat across from him, crossing one leg over the other and neatly folding your arms over your knee. Your eyes shifted from one side of the room to the other innocently, not crossing paths with his eyes once.  
  
The man's fingers shook so lightly, almost breaking his façade. His hair covered his eyes fully, much to his appreciation. He needed to keep calm, you couldn't just break him down every time you met with one another.  
  
He noticed out of the corner of his vision, your nose was in the air, mimicking his actions from many times before. You took a deep breath, chest rising, and slowly falling.  
  
"Mike, I find it very odd that you aren't absolutely disgusted by the scent in here."  
  
Scent. He couldn't smell anything but the suffocating aroma coming from you. He inhaled, trying to focus. One brow raised, a smirk forming on your lips.  
  
"It smells like something's burning."  
  
"Probably one of Hanji's experiments gone wrong."  
  
"Well, maybe."  
  
He didn't smell it. Was it just a conversation starter, or were you really taking over his senses as well as his heart?  
  
"Okay, what's up with you?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
The chair under you scraped against the wooden flooring, and your boots clicked against the hardwood floor as you stood. Pacing the area around his desk, your eyes followed his hand's movements.  
  
"You're acting so strange. I know something's up."  
  
He lifted his head for the first time since you entered the room, eyes locking. His softened, and he stood, fingers releasing his pen. You stopped your pacing and approached the squad leader, the close proximity creating a layer of sweat on his skin.  
  
You raised a hand, carefully placing it on his shoulder. It was like a bolt of energy ran through his veins.  
  
"I'm fine - "  
  
You grabbed his hand gently, causing it to release the pen he held.  
  
"You can tell me, you know? I can help."  
  
He scoffed through his nose, standing and hesitantly putting his arms around your smaller frame. What was he doing?

You thankfully hugged back, before pulling away all too soon for either one of your favors, and looked him in the eyes, looking for the right moment to move closer.  
  
Close enough for your lips to gently touch his cheek, where you placed a light kiss; so light it was like it was never there at all.  
  
"You should get to that paperwork," You whispered, stepping back, and turning on your heel to leave. He watched the floorboards where you once stood, hearing the click of the wooden barrier.  
  
And he carried on with the paperwork, your lips, your touch, your scent on his mind the whole time.


	3. Hiraeth | Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> third person point of view | fem reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wonder what the room will sound like without my voice...  
> what the room will smell like without my scent...
> 
> (r.h. sin, At 7:22 p.m., To My Love)

Marco was one of a kind. He was smart when it came to handling people's feelings. He always knew what to say and do. Marco was the reason (Name) and Jean became friends in the first place. He was sweet, warm hearted. He was able to make anyone feel at home, even when in a place as brutal as the military.  
  
Marco was always there to step in when Jean fought with his comrades, and he was always there to listen to (Name) when she reminisced of the old days she spent safe with her family. Marco was always listening to the two bickering and joking together. Marco was always trying to build a bridge between the pair.  
  
And then, Marco was found. Battered, bloodied, leaning against a dirty wall all alone.  
  
Trost wasn't supposed to be the deciding factor. Hell, it wasn't supposed to be a factor at all. The trio was supposed to be on their way to the interior by then.  
  
Jean felt the blast of the news harder than anyone in his class, without a doubt. The two were closer than anyone, close like brothers. He mourned, but stayed strong, as strong as he could.  
  
At the fires, Jean had his own battered soul, but kept together because he knew his comrades needed to see it. He knew (Name) had to see it. She was always strong, but now, she couldn't even hold herself up.  
  
Jean was there to help her back to her dorm. Jean was always there, asking if she needed anything. Jean was always checking in on her to make sure she was still breathing, being in that same stuffy room all the time.  
  
Jean was always worried about her.  
  
It had been a week since Marco's body had been found, and there were only a few mere days until graduation. Jean made his decision against the Military Police. (Name) didn't talk to anybody.  
  
She'd been in her room since that night, not even getting up from bed unless she had to use the bathroom, which was far and between. Her roommates would bring her food now and again, but when Jean asked Sasha about it, she'd told him she refused to eat most of the time, so she'd leave the food on the nightstand.  
  
At this point, it only served to fuel his anger over Marco's death. Marco left Jean clueless - he didn't know how to comfort her like he did. How could he?  
  
Jean was beaten up over his friend's death too, where was his comfort?  
  
And now he finds himself standing in front of her door, with both hands at his side, knowing knocking will be fruitless. He turned the handle, slowly opening the door usually left unlocked for the other girls that would enter the room.  
  
Everyone else was out at the training grounds, practicing for their big final grades against their graduation. He knew she was not.  
  
Because she lay there on her side, facing the wall with blankets lumped up all around her. She didn't move or make any sign of acknowledgment to his presence, even when he shut the door louder than necessary. He noticed the now moldy and disgusting food still sitting on the tray beside her bed, leaving a foul odor in the air.  
  
"(Name)."  
  
He approached her bed, placing a gentle hand on what he believed her shoulder was. Finally, she flinched away.  
  
He sighed, feeling a smooth flow of anger creep up his bloodstream. Standing, he paced over to the wide window, curtains drawn shut, and he threw them open, a stream of light radiating right off the floorboards and onto her bed.  
  
"(Name)," he said, forcefully.  
  
Again he approached her bed, and gripped the blankets, yanking them down and revealing her curled up figure. She didn't turn, but reached for the blanket and pulled it up again.  
  
Is she serious?  
  
He pulled the blankets again, and she retaliated, _again_.  
  
Breathing harshly out his nose, Jean grabbed the blankets and tore them from the bed, "(Name), get up!"  
  
"Go away!"  
  
Her voice caught him off guard - it was small and frail, weak and choked like she was crying.  
  
White hot anger flashed before his eyes and Jean grabbed her hands, yanking them away from her face, turning her forcefully. Her eyes looked almost bruised, red rimmed and wet, as she squinted against the light. She looked disastrous and it pissed him off more than her hiding away. How dare she not even take care of herself, how dare she worry Jean sick.  
  
What would Marco say?  
  
"Stop!"  
  
"You haven't even been to the training grounds, how are you ever going to make it to the Military Police if you don't pass that final?"  
  
She shifted, attempting to wrestle her hands from his grasp but his fists only tightened, eliciting a small whimper of protest from her.  
  
"You are being stupid, (Name)!"  
  
"I don't care! I don't need your help!"  
  
"You are being selfish! Maybe _I_ need help!"  
  
She cried again, out of anger as she jolted her arms, desperate for freedom. (Name) kicked out her leg, pushing Jean from the bed unexpectedly but he refused to let up, only bringing her with him. As soon as she hit the cold wood floor, she screamed, kicking relentlessly.  
  
"(Name), _stop_!"  
  
"Leave me alone!"  
  
Jean rolled over, slamming her wrist down on the floor. He hovered over her, angry tears blurring his own eyes.  
  
"You are going to get on your feet and clean yourself up. Then, you are going to the training grounds."  
  
"No!"  
  
"You need to explain yourself to the people who have lost just as much as you. The ones that still care for you out of the kindness of their hearts!"  
  
" _No_!"  
  
She stopped squirming, body exhausted, and just resorted to sobbing. Jean decided to let go, knowing she wouldn't go anywhere. She was out of fight.  
  
"I'm going to help you the whole way, (Name). I don't want to see you like this. _Marco_ wouldn't want to see you like this."  
  
"I don't care."  
  
Jean stood, retrieving the blankets from the floor along with the sheets he tugged from the bed and throwing them in a laundry basket at the far end of the room. After he threw the food away, then going to the closet and shuffling around for her uniform, pulling it out and returning to her.  
  
"I'm not giving up on you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiraeth (n.)   
> a homesickness for a home that you can't return to, or never was


	4. Morning | Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the middle of the night, and Jean doesn't exactly feel subtle with his hard-on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> told in jean's pov, with a third person fem reader

Jean's never had trouble keeping it in his pants, so why now of all times is it so hard to just turn over and go to sleep?

(Name) lay next to him, her back towards him, but damn it was still a view. She only wore her underwear and one of his baggier shirts. It was hot in the room, being the middle of a boiling summer, and the covers were bunched up around her feet. The covers were around his own waist, his arms splayed out on the bed and his legs straight out. Numb from all the blood rushing to his...middle.

God, how embarrassing.

It's not the first time she slept in the same room, hell, even in the same bed, right beside him, looking so tempting-

Yet here he was, feeling like a 15-year old virgin next to a porn star.

He knew he should just go to the bathroom and take care of it, but God, he doubted he had any feeling in his fucking legs anymore. Maybe he should just wake her up. Lifting himself up on one arm, Jean looked to the night stand on her side of the bed, where a clock glowed. 3 in the morning. He groaned, flopping back down.

She'd be so annoyed if he woke her up this early for that, but her skin looked so smooth, her sides revealed a bit under that big shirt, curving into her hips and her beautiful legs-

"Oh, c'mon!" he whispered, turning on his side away from her. 

They've been together for two years, and made love many times. Each time feels like the first with her, she's so special. He can't get her form out of his head; hair fanned out behind her, eyes clouded with lust, breasts bouncing and her crying of his name-

There's no way he can make it through the rest of the night like this.

Slowly reaching down, Jean pushed the covers off his waist, revealing the tent in his boxers. His thumb accidentally brushed the bulge, causing his abdomen to clench a bit. God, this was tantalizing. His fingers carefully slipped his waistline down, his cock springing up, the tip of it nearly purple. He shoved the garment the rest of the way down his thighs, leaving it around his knees.

And so, it was him and his dick. With his girlfriend right next to him, fast asleep.

_Let's get this fucking over with._

He swiped his thumb over the tip, picking up strings of pre-cum and rubbing it around, slowly. This was already torture. He wrapped his entire palm around his shaft, and had his other hand cover his mouth to keep him from breathing so heavy. Slowly, squeezing hard, he pulled his hand up, and his hips jolted, trying to follow his hand's movements. His hand gave a little, falling back down to his pelvis and then back up, just stopping before the head.

There was a soft gasp, and he drew his hand back faster than light, turning onto his side to hide his erection. His face blew up in red's, as he held his breath, listening for any sign (Name) heard, or even saw him. After a moment, he looked over his shoulder, to where (Name) was still asleep, her chest rising softly. Her back was against the mattress now, her legs curled and tilted to the side where she was facing before. He let out his breath, sitting up a bit and looking down at her.

Her hair looked so soft, spilling out behind her onto the pillow. Her body looked so smooth, God, he'd give anything to just touch her. Maybe...

Jean reached out slowly, biting his bottom lip. He carefully slid a finger up her side, pushing the shirt up a bit, revealing her soft tummy. His eyes flickered to her eyes, which remained closed.

Screw it, this is taunting. Plus, he couldn't cum like this.

He scooted closer to her, already dying to feel her body heat beside, next to, on his.

Jean carefully sat up and placed his palm over her soft thighs, feeling himself harden just from the touch. He shook her gently, causing her to grumble and turn onto her back, revealing the cute, lacey, (color) underwear, with a little bow on the front.

It made him want to ravage her.

"(Name)," he whispered, half expecting her to wake up right away.

His hand almost involuntarily slide up her thigh, thumb slipping under the fabric of her underwear.

"(Name)," he called, again, a little louder and a little more impatient.

He slapped a hand to his face, peering out through his fingers as he slipped another finger under her underwear, pulling it to the side and revealing her clit. His dick twitched. God, he needed her to wake up and let him slide in like, now.

He let the underwear fall to place and taking one quick look at (Name), laying his previously occupied hand over the side of her waist and shaking her a bit again.

"(Name)."

She woke with a tired inhale and a hand rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Jean? What are you doing?"

Hearing his name come from her low, groggy voice had him dazed, slipping his hands back down her sides and meeting her underwear again as his hips jolted, dick still free and in plain sight.

"I need you."

"I'm right he-"

"No. _I need you_. Can you...can we-?"

(Name) took note of the way his cheeks were red, and his bottom lip was pulled between his teeth. His hands were fidgeting over her legs and his cock stood tall right there in front of her, painfully aroused.

Slowly, she drew her legs up, away from his touch, adjusting so that she could shimmy her underwear down her thighs, down her shins and off her ankles, laying them in the spot Jean had been before.

She noticed his lust-flushed eyes watch her every movement before floating back to her own, and she nodded at him, granting him the access he was nearly dying for.

He slowly took a finger, sliding it against her lower lips, and watched her face for the slightest reactions.

"You're so fucking hot."

She smiled and held onto the wrist he prodded her with, guiding his hand closer to where she grew needy. It prompted him to push it past them, reveling in the warmth and subtle moisture. He stroked it achingly slow, barely moving his finger at all, building up her arousal. 

"Shit."

The slightest whisper had him almost drooling. 

Removing his finger for only a moment, Jean put it in his mouth, swishing his tongue against the digit before carefully putting it back into her pussy. With the added wet, it was easier to slide his finger down, pushing so slightly into her. Her legs shifted a bit and he watched her face before he pushed further. His movements felt slower now, his eyes half-lidded and his jaw hanging open a little, his cock still pulsing with the need for friction. His other hand clamped onto it, twisting and pulling to give it some sort of pleasure while he carried on. He was soon able to slid his entire finger down to the knuckle, but he slipped it from her heat, catching a small groan from the two of them, and he wrapped his other hand around his dick, using the moisture from her.

His body moved into auto-pilot, placing him in between her open legs and positioning his member with her pussy. Sticking his tongue out, he licked his palm and placed it over the head, wetting it and slipping it past her lips, rubbing up and down against her clit. He slid it a little too rough and quick, moaning aloud. 

"Sorry, you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

His head pushed into her and stopped, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip and his head tilting back. He laid his hands against her hips softly, rubbing his thumbs against her smooth skin, before he pushed in further and further, until he was nearly fully seated in her.

"Ohh, holy shit..."

He forced himself to meet her closed eyes, head lolling back into the pillows. Her eyebrows were drawn up in pleasure, and he leaned forward, doing his best not to move too much to help her get adjusted, while also planting a kiss on her lips. He continued to push in, feeling his balls press tight against her ass. His lips opened slightly, pressing hotly against her own when she gasped at his entrance Jean relaxed his head against her shoulder and head, breathing in her scent, which went right to his already hard dick. He nearly went crazy in her heat, and it took an incredible amount of control to not just pound into her, have her screaming his name and begging for more.

A low moan rumbled in her chest, slipping through her lips and right into his ear and damn, if he didn't release one of his own into her skin. He kissed her shoulder tenderly, less concerned with taking his time and more concerned about getting them both off.

He didn't move much yet, rather ground his pelvis into hers. Hearing the swish of her liquids on him caused him cry out in pleasure.

"Mmm...(Name), baby..."

He shifted a bit, feeling her hips jut upwards against his, and swayed back towards her. _God_ , he needed release.

He pulled out, and pushed back in, his hips diving into her in slow, digging motions.

He gained a little speed, listening for her little groans and he found himself panting, staring at her partially open lips.

"Ah..Jean..."

That caused him to slam forward, pushing her further into her pillows and moan louder. Her fingers reached up and gripped his forearms. His back arched, his hips slapping against hers again and again and he felt her squirming and whining become more frequent.

"Shit, shit!" 

He yanked himself from her heat, slamming forward again and letting his dick slide against her stomach as he came, ropes of white landing on her stomach and his shirt. He panted, coming down from his high and closing his eyes, laying his head down on her shoulder.

Her hand came to rest over his sweaty hair, rustling it softly with her fingers.

"Jean."

Now came the part where she told him to go to sleep and not wake her up for a fuck ever again.

He grunted, his breath still labored as he looked up at her, her hand lovingly tugging his short hair. Her tired eyes were still soft, and she didn't look too mad. Thank God.

"Sorry for waking you."

She smiled, "Don't be."

Her voice was still groggy and it honestly made him hard a bit again, but he willed it away. His eyes were starting to close, and as sweaty as he was, he didn't mind just falling asleep like this, face tucked away into her neck with her lovingly massaging his scalp.

"You have to clean it up."

"Right."


	5. Cuts & Bruises | Levi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (name) = son's name

(Name) nearly scrubbed his skin raw with the washcloth, trying his best to get the dirt and grime from his face and arms. The bruises glowed on his skin; dull yellows and purples blooming under his eye and on his cheekbone. His lip was split, a little dried stream of red bubbled.  
  
Seeing the damage, the kid leaned over the counter and turned more water onto the washcloth, slapping the sopping rag to his face and rubbing at his cheeks. If only the bruises could be washed away too.  
  
Placing the rag down and drying off, the boy stepped down from the stool and opened the door cautiously, peering out. The ends of his hair still dripped in front of his eyes.  
  
But more alarming - his papa sat a few feet from the bathroom on the sofa, reading a book.  
  
(Name) snuck out slowly, facing the bathroom door as he closed it and looked carefully over his shoulder at Levi.  
  
“Did you take a bath in the sink or something? You’ve had it running for fifteen minutes.”  
  
He thought up something quick, “I wanted to get all the dirt from under my nails!”  
  
Surely that wouldn’t be a problem, his father being the clean freak he was.  
  
Levi gave a sideways glance at the kid. Since when did the seven year-old care about hygiene?  
  
(Name) turned his head down at his feet and waddled sideways to the hallway. It was only a short distance away. Just past Levi.  
  
His feet skid across the hardwood floor. At that point, Levi had already put his book down, watching the kid just avoid doing splits with what long strides he was taking, sideways.  
  
The scent of victory was in the air for (Name), as only a few more slides would get him to the hallway and he could run the rest of the way to his room -  
  
A strong hand grasped his forearm. Caught.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“Going to my room,” he said, head down.  
  
“Why are you walking like that?”  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
“Can you look at me when I talk to you?”  
  
(Name) swayed in place, thinking of an answer, “…Noo…”  
  
Levi raised an eyebrow, “No?”  
  
“My eyes are broken.”  
  
“(Name).”  
  
“Call back later.”  
  
Levi sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to reason with a seven year old. Pulling on his arm gently as to turn the kid to face him, he felt a small tug back.  
  
He tilted (Name) further, but the kid’s head stayed in the opposite direction, as much as he could keep it.  
  
Where he mustered the patience for his child, he’ll never know.  
  
Standing off the couch, Levi let go of his little arm in an attempt to walk around and kneel beside him, but (Name) had other plans.  
  
Instead, once free, (Name) made his escape to his room. Levi followed right on his tail.  
  
(Name) went to close the door, but once he saw Levi’s feet through the crack, gave up and turned around, walking to his bed.  
  
“(Name). What is this about?”  
  
The boy ignored him, hopping onto his bed and burying his face into the pillows, little legs dangling off the bed. He couldn’t let his papa see his face. He might get mad or disappointed or sell him or -  
  
A soft hand landed on his back, and he knew he’d see the bruises.  
  
Just the thought of what his biggest role model would say, what he’d think…  
  
Tears bubbled in his eyes and he whined into the pillow, tensing up. He had to hold his ground!  
  
“ _(Name)._ ”  
  
He’s done for. He had to surrender.  
  
The kid went completely limp with defeat, allowing Levi to turn him over lightly. (Name)’s face felt cool with the exposed air, and his teeth bit down on his bottom lip to stop himself from crying. He knew his papa would just get annoyed if he cried. He had to be strong.  
  
Papa never cried.  
  
  
  
Levi was speechless.  
  
How’d he get so beat up, and _who did it_?  
  
White hot anger flushed through his veins and he had to bite back the questions he wanted to ask and the need to hunt down the predators. (Name) came first.  
  
Levi put his hands under (Name)’s shoulders, lifting him from the bed as his head lolled back, and the over Levi’s shoulder, weak and defeated. Standing off the bed, he carried his son to the bathroom, sitting him down on the sink counter and pulling a small first aid kid from the cabinet.  
  
His boy stared up at him with guilt, waiting for him to say something, but Levi remained emotionless, taking care of the cut on his lip first.  
  
After a moment, Levi addressed the boy’s fears, “What happened?”  
  
“The older boys.”  
  
This wasn’t the first run in, Levi knew that much. But it’s the first time they injured him. Damn kids, who would do such a thing?  
  
“What’d they do?”  
  
(Name) whined, not wanting to talk about it, “It’s okay. Really. It doesn’t hurt-”  
  
“I didn’t ask if it hurt. I asked what happened.”  
  
He didn’t answer, drawing his arms under his chin and wiping his tears, berating himself under his breath. Levi tilted his head up, wiping his tears away with his thumb.  
  
(Name) slapped his hand away and slid his arms over his eyes himself, erasing the tears from his red rimmed eyes angrily. Levi wanted to scold him for slapping his hand away, but knew it wasn’t the time.  
  
“I’m okay! I don’t need help!”  
  
“(Name), why are you trying to hide from me?”  
  
“I’m not! Leave me alone!”  
  
(Name) didn’t try to run when Levi backed off, letting the kid cool. Tantrums wouldn’t help anybody in this situation. The bruises still stuck out, haunting Levi.  
  
Bruises, scarring _his_ little baby’s face. It made him furious, but (Name) trying to hide it only made him more concerned. He’s never this closed off, he’s only a kid.  
  
He let him cry for a few seconds before putting the first aid pack to the side. He knew (Name) wouldn’t let him touch his injuries while he was upset.  
  
“Hey, look at me.”  
  
He let him warm up a second, watching (Name) carefully lower his arms and calm down.  
  
“Tell me what’s going on.”  
  
“I told you, the older boys-”  
  
“Not that. Tell me why you’re hiding it.”  
  
The boy slouched, tears dry on his cheeks.  
  
“I don’t want you to be disappointed in me,” he whispered.  
  
Levi softened, “Why would I be disappointed?”  
  
He shrugged, “Because you never get sad. You never cry. You’re Humanity’s Strongest Soldier!”  
  
Levi rubbed his temples. Of course that would take a toll on (Name). Poor kid’s probably emotionally deprived.  
  
“Crying isn’t weak, (Name). Crying actually makes you strong.”  
  
(Name) shook his head.  
  
“No, it’s true. It’s okay to cry when you’re hurt or upset sometimes.”  
  
“But you never get upset.”  
  
“I do. I get upset all the time. When you got sick, I was upset because your dirty germs got all over the place whenever you sneezed.”  
  
(Name) giggled.  
  
“And I am upset because you’re hurt. It’s okay to be upset sometimes.”  
  
(Name) eased up, smiling up at his papa.  
  
Levi took the opportunity to dress his wounds again. And in the process, laid a quick kiss on top of his fuzzy head.  
  
“Don’t be afraid to come to me, okay? I’m your father, and I love you. I want to protect you, and help you be strong.”  
  
“Okay.”


End file.
